Lies Like Poison

by Chelsea Pitcher

  “It’s not uncommon for victims of loss to experience hallucinations. Especially someone so young.”

  “He wasn’t hallucinating. One night, I snuck over to his house to see what was happening. I climbed up the ivy that led to Raven’s bedroom, and I looked through the window, and…”

  “What?” the detective asked, his eyebrows knitting together. A wrinkle formed between them. “What did you see, Jack?”

  “It isn’t what I saw. It’s what I heard. Her voice was trickling through the room, soft as a whisper. I’d recognize it anywhere. It was Raven’s mom, who’d died a year earlier. She was asking him to join her. She was saying she couldn’t do this alone, and she needed her little boy.” Jack swallowed, taking a breath. “It scared me so badly, I fell into the rosebushes underneath Raven’s window. I still have the scars,” she added, pulling up the sleeve of her jacket.

  The detective frowned, eyeing the thin slashes that laced their way up her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked.

  “So you could recommend psychiatric help for me, too? Ship me off to a mental hospital on the other side of the country?”

  “Jack, you told me Raven was in danger of hurting himself. I had a professional obligation to order a psych evaluation, and after spending seventy-two hours with the boy, Dr. Grimaldi thought it would be best to send Raven to a place where he could process his grief. The Seven Brothers Academy isn’t a mental hospital. It’s a boarding school for boys who’ve experienced trauma. Raven has had round-the-clock doctors at his disposal, and some of the best educators in the country.”

  “I guess I should thank you then,” Jack said bitterly. “Except Raven’s going to rot in that place until he’s eighteen, and then he’ll never come back here, since his father threw him away so easil—”

  “You don’t know?” Medina’s eyes narrowed, and Jack’s heart stuttered like the wings of a dying butterfly. “Raven’s been given a clean bill of health from the Seven Brothers Academy. As of three days ago, he was cleared to come home.”

  “He… What?” Her eyelids fluttered closed, and behind them she could see soft hands and ebony curls. Bright eyes. “Raven’s coming home?”

  “His flight gets in this afternoon. He was supposed to arrive last night, but his original flight was canceled, thank God. If he’d arrived when he was scheduled to, he might’ve been the one to find his stepmother. How terrible would that have been, after finding his mom the way he did? Lying in the snow…” The detective kept talking, but Jack didn’t hear a word. The phrase his flight gets in this afternoon kept trickling through her mind. It should’ve brought her joy. Should’ve made her hands tremble in anticipation, but instead, dread settled into her stomach, heavy as a rock.

  “Does Belle know he’s on his way home? Did she know he was coming home?”

  “We’re working on getting her phone records, to see if she and Raven were in contact around the time of his release. But we have her on film entering the Holloway estate the day Evelyn was killed. There’s a camera over the front gate, and Belladonna entered the grounds at five twenty-three in the evening.”

  “That was hours before Evelyn was…” Jack trailed off, her mind reeling. “Why would she sneak over so early? Did you ask her?”

  “Her lawyer’s got her clammed up,” the detective said, frowning. “But her father says they had dinner together later that night, so I’m guessing she cased the joint earlier to make sure Evelyn still drank tea.”

  “Is there video of her leaving?”

  He shook his head. “She must’ve snuck out the back gate, then snuck back in the same way hours later.” Medina took a breath, leveling Jack with a stare. “Now do you want to recant your statement about spending the night with her?”

  “I…” Did she? Once upon a time, she’d have had no trouble believing Belladonna Drake was capable of murder. Fourteen-year-old Belle had been a scrawny, feral creature, likely to scratch out the eyes of anyone who got close to Raven, whether that person was a friend or a foe. But over time Belle’s sharp edges had softened to curves, and her anger had softened too, into calm, quiet patience. Someday her beloved boy would return to her. Someday it would be safe for him to live at home.

  But what if Belle found out Raven was being released from the Seven Brothers Academy and decided to make things safe for him? Jack had barely been able to stop the murder three years ago. Now she was sitting in a police station, providing an alibi for a girl who had definitely not slept beside her last night.

  “If I recant my statement, what happens to Belle?”

  Medina leaned in, his voice surprisingly gentle. “The prosecution’s case is solid. The flowers were found in Evelyn’s tea, just like the recipe says, and Belladonna’s history with Raven speaks to motive. If she and Raven were in contact over the past few weeks…” He frowned, shaking his head. “It doesn’t look good for her.”

  Jack’s chest felt tight. “And if I stick to my original statement? Get up on the stand and swear Belle and I spent the night together?”

  The detective laced his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands. “Best-case scenario, the prosecution will use your history of storytelling to get your testimony thrown out.”

  “That’s the best-case scenario?” Jack felt herself sinking, and she hadn’t moved from her chair. “Dare I ask what the worst-case scenario is?”

  “The prosecution targets you next. Charges you with providing false testimony. Maybe conspiracy to commit murder. If the judge thinks you were involved in the planning of Mrs. Holloway’s death, you could be reuniting with your friend sooner than you think. You two could be spending a lot of time together at that detention center.”

  Jack’s stomach dipped. If she was locked up beside Belle, she’d never be able to figure out what had really happened to Raven’s stepmother. “Can I think about it?” she asked timidly. It was the first time her voice had wavered since she’d entered the station. The first time she’d been uncertain her stories would keep her out of trouble, protect her, allow her to sleep at night.

  Detective Medina nodded, his gaze still kind. Chin still resting on his hands. “Things are going to move quickly,” he warned. “Evelyn was loved by a lot of people, and Rose Hollow hasn’t seen a crime like this in—”

  “Four years,” Jack muttered, thinking of Raven’s mother. His real mother, the one who’d loved him.

  “The trial could be set in a couple of weeks,” the detective went on. “And unless you can bring me a suspect who hated Evelyn Holloway and wanted to ruin Belladonna’s life—”

  “I can.” Jack sat bolt upright. Blood rushed through her ears. Her battered heart sprang to life. All this time, the answer had been right in front of her. “I have to go.” She pushed out of her chair. “I’ll be in touch within the next couple of days, all right? I don’t know how long it’ll take to…”

  Get to her, Jack thought, her mind racing a mile a minute. There was someone who hated Evelyn Holloway, and that person would’ve had no trouble at all dragging Belle’s name through the dirt. Unfortunately, that person had been locked in a gated facility almost as long as Raven had been locked in a boarding school on the other side of the country.

  Could she have broken out?

  “I’ll have answers for you soon,” Jack promised, buttoning her coat. Winter had ended, but an icy chill still drifted through the air, settling on her limbs. Encircling her throat. “I just need to talk to someone first.”

  “Say hello to Raven for me,” the detective said, mistaking the reason for her exit. Raven was coming home. She needed to see him, desperately, but there was someone else she needed to see first.

  “I’m not going to see Raven,” Jack said, striding to the door. She was going to see the girl who’d stopped eating after Raven had left town. The girl whose own mother had dropped her off at a wellness facility, three months later, and had never come back for her.

  Lily Holloway, Raven’s stepsister.

  “I�
�ve already spoken with Lily,” Detective Medina said, as Jack touched the doorknob. She turned, slowly, to see him holding the Recipe for the Perfect Murder in his hand. “When I showed her the recipe, she started stammering about Belle’s innocence. I didn’t know the two were friends. What was their relationship like before Lily went to stay at the facility?”

  Jack swallowed, a pang of fear shooting through her stomach. A pang of warning. “They hated each other.”

  3

  A Kiss Before Dying

  When Raven was fourteen, he lay down in a glass coffin in his orchard. Jack stood over him, heart hammering like a fist. There was lightning in her veins. Starlight in her eyes. At fourteen years old, Raven was already so beautiful, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “I tried to save you,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Seeing Raven in that coffin was like looking at a vision of the future. There was no if about saying goodbye to Raven Holloway.

  Only when.

  The tears that fell were genuine. The pain in her chest, crushing. After a minute of staring at him, she turned to the girl at the edge of the clearing, the one dressed in head-to-toe black.

  “I can’t do this,” Jack said.

  Raven’s eyelids fluttered open. He was wearing a black velvet suit, and one of his dark curls had fallen into his eyes. “Are you afraid to kiss me?” he asked, sitting up.

  “I…” Yes. No. Maybe, she thought, her gaze trained on Belladonna Drake. Belle had insisted on playing the witch in this scenario, because the role suited her so perfectly. She had that dark, glossy hair. Kohl-rimmed eyes. A smile that could cut you to pieces, or bring you to life.

  “I told you, it’s okay,” Belle said, flashing that duplicitous smile. “Tonight we’re sharing him.”

  Jack’s throat felt tight. She took a long, slow breath before striding over to Belle. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Out of character?”

  Belle rolled her eyes. Looping her arm through Jack’s, she led her friend through a copse of apple trees. Away from the coffin and the dark-eyed boy. “Look, I get it,” Belle said when they were a safe distance from Raven. “You’d rather die than kiss a boy.”

  “That isn’t it.” Jack wrapped her arms around herself. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then help me understand. Whatever it is, you can tell… Poppy, why are you crying?”

  Jack wanted to correct her, to say, My name is Jack, but she couldn’t do that without offering an explanation. And… there wasn’t one. At least, not one that would make sense to the others. She wasn’t changing her name because her identity was changing. It was almost the opposite of that. Poppy had never felt right. But Jack fit, in a way that nothing had before.

  “Seriously,” Belle said, as Jack slumped against a tree, wiping the tears from her lashes. “It’s fine. If I’d known you were going to break down at the thought of kissing my boyfriend, I would’ve played the knight.”

  “Neither of us is a knight! Raven isn’t a prince! Something is really, really wrong with him, and playing some stupid game we loved when we were kids isn’t going to stop—” Jack broke off, sliding down the trunk of the tree. Belle knelt in front of her. She must’ve been starting to understand, because she lifted Jack’s chin with her fingers. “You’re worried about him in real life.”

  “Of course I am,” Jack said, jerking out of her grip. “He’s going to die. He’s going to be lying in a coffin for real, and no kiss will bring him back. She’s going to kill him, Belle.”

  “She won’t. I won’t let it happen.”

  Jack looked up, her eyes narrowing in the moonlight. “How are you going to stop it?” she asked, the fluttering in her chest going still. Belle hadn’t sounded angry then, or scared.

  She’d sounded determined.

  Quietly, Belle reached into her dress. It was a black lacy thing with tons of ribbons and even more pockets. Perfect for a witch. But she didn’t pull out a potion, or a bottle containing the wings of a bat. She pulled out a scrap of paper with something scribbled on it.

  Recipe for the Perfect Murder

  One petal of belladonna

  One petal of poppy

  Drop into a teacup and stir three times.

  “What is this?” Jack demanded. But she knew what it was. Like the changing of her name, this recipe needed no explanation. “You want us to poison Raven’s stepmom?”

  “She’s poisoning him. She’s poisoning his mind, all because he has his mom’s eyes and his mom’s laugh. Every time his dad looks at him, he’s reminded of the woman he lost in the snow. The woman he loved more than he’ll ever love Evely—”

  “Are you two done talking about me?” a voice called from the north. Raven’s voice. He was too far away to hear them, but still, Jack took the recipe and crumpled it in her hand. “You should burn this before Raven sees it,” she said.

  “No time.” Belle plucked the ball of paper from Jack’s fingers and tossed it into a nearby creek. “The water will wash away the ink,” she promised, flashing a grin. A wicked grin, Jack thought, because Belle had always loved playing the witch. Jack had never been happier than when she was playing the knight. She’d rescued Raven from his third-floor bedroom, and from the tallest branches in the orchard.

  Now he needed her to rescue him one more time.

  “When?” she murmured as Raven tromped loudly through the orchard. He was doing it on purpose. Raven could sneak up on you in the dead of night, and Raven could walk through a pile of leaves without making noise.

  He wanted them to hear him.

  “I don’t have all the details yet,” Belle said, pulling Jack to her feet. “But we need to keep him distracted, playing dead instead of actually hurting himself. All right?”

  Jack nodded, and then Raven had joined them by the creek. Just like it always did, the moonlight found him. Cut a pathway to his face. His skin was pale brown, his hair as black as midnight. Lips as red as a rose—at least, they were after Belle was done planting a kiss on him.

  “I figured someone should do it,” she said with a laugh, and Jack slunk away from them. Into the shadows where she belonged. Once Belle had Raven all to herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist, standing behind him.

  He is mine, her stance seemed to say. Try to take him, and I’ll drop a poisonous blossom into your tea.

  Jack shuddered, turning away from them. The night had been unseasonably warm, but seeing her closest friends entangled was making her feel cold. Lonely. At Jack’s prompting, the three of them made their way back to the great stone manor, where Raven lived with his father and stepmother. His wicked stepmother, Jack thought, and she wasn’t playing a game anymore. Ever since Evelyn Holloway had moved onto Raven’s estate, he’d grown pale. Gaunt. People blamed it on the death of his real mother, but the truth was, months after his mother’s funeral, the color started returning to Raven’s cheeks. Light had sparkled in his eyes again. Then that woman had moved into his house, and Raven had started to whisper about joining his mother in the dirt.

  A few weeks later, he’d snuck into his father’s bedroom and stolen a bottle of sleeping pills from the bedside table. When Belle had discovered the pills under Raven’s pillow, she’d simply shrugged, tossing three into her mouth. “Let’s sleep together,” she’d challenged. Then she’d held the pills under her tongue until Raven flushed the contents of the bottle down the toilet.

  And earlier that night, when Raven had found a massive aquarium at a yard sale, Belle had helped him carry it into the orchard in front of his house. Together they’d adorned it with roses from his mother’s garden, and then Raven had climbed inside, his dark eyes closing. Jack had watched from the edge of the clearing as Belle leaned over him, cackling the way she had when they were scrawny sixth graders playing make-believe in this same orchard.

  “Finally!” Belle had shrieked, gliding her fingernails along Raven’s cheek. “The precious prince is mine, to have and to hold, for all eternity. Unless you’d like to wake him
up?” She’d turned then, catching Jack’s eye, and Jack had blushed furiously. She hadn’t wanted to kiss Raven. Raven was her oldest friend. For years, the two had lived as brothers, dangling from the tall trees of the orchard or wrestling in the rose garden. The thought of pressing her lips to his was shocking. Appalling. But also…

  “Someone’s watching us,” a voice whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. Jack slammed into the current moment like she’d fallen from a tree. Her lungs struggled to take in breath. Her cheeks were blazing, and she wondered if Belle could see it in the light of the full moon.

  But Belle was watching someone else. Jack turned, and Raven turned too, their eyes finding the girl spying on them from the back of the orchard. Fourteen-year-old Lily must’ve had a complicated relationship with clothing, because she always wore multiple layers under her bulky sweaters. Amidst the pale blossoms of the apple trees, her white-blond hair made her look perfectly at home, like she belonged there. Like she’d been born there. In reality, Lily had moved onto the Holloway estate a few months earlier along with her mother, and in Belle’s mind that made her an interloper.

  A trespasser on sacred lands.

  “Raven,” Belle cooed, her voice as sticky as maple syrup, “I’m feeling a bit parched from bringing you back to life. Would you get me some cider?”

  Raven eyed her a minute, wary of leaving her alone with his new stepsister. “Play nice,” he told her, hand lingering on the door. “If I come back here to find her hanging in the orchard by her feet—”

  “She’d deserve it after sneaking into your bedroom,” Belle snapped, turning to Jack. “Raven found his stepsister hiding in his closet. How’s that for ominous?”

  Jack’s head swiveled toward Raven, her mouth agape. “What? Lily’s been sneaking into your bedroom?”

  “Almost every day.” Belle cocked her head to the side, touching Raven’s cheek. “Do you think she’s looking for something? Or… hiding something?”